


Fire, Ice & Sapphires

by Nova_Pipping



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, F/M, Original Character(s), Romance, Skyrim - Freeform, Solstheim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22745539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nova_Pipping/pseuds/Nova_Pipping
Summary: Chronicles of the Dragonborn, Saph, and Talvas Fathryon, Neloth’s apprentice, after events of game (main quest and DLCs).
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Talvas Fathryon
Kudos: 7





	1. The First Step

Talvas began to make his way towards the kitchen; he'd been pouring through various detailed volumes, researching other Guardian spells in order to try to understand more about the theory and mechanics behind the summoning. And now, eyes a little itchy from focussed reading and his brain buzzing, he needed a drink.  
Walking down the pathway from the main tower of Tel Mithryn, Talvas paid little attention to the surroundings, and let his feet guide him with muscle memory. His mind was caught between his fresh research, his thirst for something sweet, and now, a new thought was forming, in the shape of a certain someone: Saph.  
The last time they had spoken, she had been so... fragile. Shaken up from that recent trip to Apocrypha. She'd never been like that before; the deadric realm had never hindered her, despite the stories of others' experiences. That writhing tentacle must have tried to slither its way into her head. It wasn't solely Mora to blame, though, he thought. Something else had affected her, after she had returned. It was as if she had suddenly received some terrible news and didn't know what to do. And being helpless, Talvas knew, was not a state Saph liked to find herself in.  
He hadn't pushed her though. He thought that trying to make her talk would have only made her withdraw further. So when she had said that she needed to go, to be alone, he'd made no objection.  
It was now, however, that doubt settled itself into the base of his mind. Maybe letting her leave was not the best thing to do. He had no idea where she had gone and had no idea how damaged she was, how vulnerable. Not that Saph would ever allow herself to be vulnerable.  
But that could not shake the worry Talvas now found himself wading through as he crossed towards the rounded door of the kitchen. He looked out across the landscape, toward the northern mountains, coated in the remnants of the ash storm that had just passed, and vaguely guessed at where she might be.  
Then, there she was. A solid figure ploughing up the mound towards Tel Mythrin. There was a lift in Talvas' chest, ever so slight but it pulled him from his path and he began to walk towards her.  
She wasn’t in her armour. It was such a strange sight to see her at her natural size - her actual figure, without the added bulk. So much smaller. Her clothes were similar to those that she had worn during their first meeting, when he first saw her approach him, here, in the Tel Mithryn courtyard. That moment seemed eons ago.

Talvas smiled subtly as she looked up towards him and drew closer. She came to a stop in front of him, and there they both stood, among the leaning, growing mushrooms of Tel Mithryn.  
“I’ve been thinking a lot.”  
It was as if she was continuing a conversation they’d never started.  
“And I’m struggling to put everything in order. Things still are not completely making sense; there are many aspects, that used to be secure, that I am now very unsure about.”  
Talvas looked at her. She was troubled, he was sure. Her face had lost its calculated calm, its determined stillness. Words were pouring out, but with very little meaning - a trait that was certainly not hers.  
Saph inhaled deeply and repositioned herself to stand a little straighter.  
“I am sorry for the way I spoke to you, the last time I saw you. I am sorry.”

Talvas took a breath to reply that he understood and had no hard feelings, when she continued,  
“I’ve decided that I am going back to Skyrim. For a little longer than ‘just a trip’, this time. Many aspects of my life are unclear at the moment, but there is at least one fact that I can see and that is that I need to go to Skyrim; there are people that I need to see and speak with. Not for me but for them.”  
Despite the jolt her words caused in his gut, this time, Talvas did not try to interrupt. Even though he certainly wanted to say something, he knew that he should let her talk. She needed to talk, to help herself understand.  
“As for my part... I need...”  
He face slackened and her eyes drifted away.  
“I don’t know what I need. And that is why I am going.”

Talvas wasn’t sure how to react. He didn’t fully understand what she was saying, or why she was saying it, but she was going to Skyrim. It was definite that she had decided. In the spin of all that she had said, it was dizzying trying to comprehend it all.

“Talvas.”

Her tone had changed, and his name in her voice pulled his focus towards her, and everything was a little sharper.

But when he looked at her, something within her startled and she withdrew.  
Talvas needed to say something.  
“When are you leaving?”  
“The Northern Maiden is ready to go. She leaves within two hours. We’ll be in Skyrim by morning.”


	2. Leaving Solstheim

Saph stilled her churning thoughts as the waves beneath her pulled the boat out of the docks and she watched Raven Rock drift further and further away.  
She was doing the right thing. All her life she had relied on herself, and herself alone, at the end of all things, and now that her mind seemed to be as unsteady as the sands shifting in the water below, she needed to pull herself together. And if that meant leaving possibly the closest person she’d had to a friend abandoned on the ash dunes…

She scrunched her eyes closed against the collapsing pit within her.

_I am lost._

She slowly opened her eyes and gripped the polished, wooden side of The Northern Maiden as she saw that Solstheim was no longer in view, and she was staring only at ash clouds and their reflections in the murky water.

_I have lost my way, my purpose._

A flash of broken eyes and writhing tentacles split her thought.

_That insufferable—_

She stopped herself. Whilst she had enough steel in her gut to deal with him, Mora could always find her. She didn’t know how long it would be until the echo of that voice stopped pulsing between her ears. Her relationship with the Daedric Prince would always be based on technicalities. At least getting away from Solstheim would put some mental distance between her and that plain of Oblivion.

The warming smell of metal and ember was fading, the clouds whitening.

He had gotten to her. That stupid mass of slime had gotten to her. And now she was leaving the place that had come close to feeling like home.

_Running away._

She ground her teeth as the phrase clung to the base of her head.   
She rubbed her eyes and raked her fingers across her scalp.   
She breathed.

She was lost. She had lost sight of who she was.  
But that one conversation, that one connection across the sparks of a blacksmith’s forge, had reminded her of a world she had left behind. Of the people and promises she had left behind. Of a past self, hardened and guarded as she’d always been, but who took steps into the unknown, across borders, to a chopping block, up mountains and into a title she did not believe was hers. She had been given a path, forced onto it, but she had carved her own way regardless and met Destiny on her own terms; she who had pledged to help those who needed it, and pull the rug from under those who had become too comfortable.

The familiar rouge dust no longer stained the sky. The wind had cooled to a biting chill as the boat sailed through ice-spattered water that blackened into its depths. Saph, still looking in the direction of the island and the stories it held, felt the letter tucked tight beneath her new armour, her new skin, and tracked through her journey ahead. A gust of fine snow from a nearby icecap whipped across the boat. Instead of feeling the sting of disturbed surface-layer sand she had grown so accustomed to, a shiver rolled through her — one she hadn’t felt for a long time. It tugged at the array of memories, fastened away, which then wholly unraveled as the unmistakable clangs of dock bells pierced through the icy mist behind her.

* * *

Windhelm hadn’t changed. Saph wasn’t sure exactly how long she’d been away on Solstheim but the city walls, the bustle of the dock, even the wind, were eerily the same as she remembered leaving them. To be fair, the dark coldness that surrounded the northern city seemed to be sunk into its very being and, like the Nords it housed, severely unwilling to be uprooted. It would take an insurmountable flame to thaw the stubbornness out of the walls and the people.

On that notion, Saph hadn’t heard of any shifts within the Civil War. She’d assumed both sides were still barking over the fence of stalemate as they had been when she’d left, even after the temporary truce had now been dissolved.

Heading out of the docks and towards the stables, Saph pulled her hood forward and kept to herself. It was nice, not wearing armour – well, the metal kind. She had missed the feel of simple leathers, the mobility allowed by them, the ability to slip beneath some dark cloth and practically become invisible. She liked this Blackguard attire very much. Very much indeed. And these leathers, she could tell, were far, far from simple.

“Where do you want to go?”

Having slipped the coins into the barely warm hands of the carriage driver, Saph swung herself up into the cart.

“Riften, if you please.”

With a snap of the reigns and a single, guttural syllable, the driver bade the horse into action. Wrapping her cloak tightly around her, Saph watched as Windhelm, the Northern Maiden and the jagged coast receded into the snowy fog.


	3. In Riften

The sapphire glinted in the dim glow of the Cistern as Saph fumbled with it in her palm. She safely pocketed it as she watched the jewel’s namesake turn and saunter away, though it was a visibly more reflective gait than Sapphire’s usual. The letter, the words within it, had melted the thief’s expression in a way Saph felt almost honoured to witness. Saph stood for a moment, lost in distant thought.

* * *

“Talvas! What are you doing?”

The sudden return to reality from his thoughts made Talvas reassess how his legs worked.

“Uhh… nothing, Master Neloth.”

“Precisely!” came the polytonal exclamation of the master Telvanni wizard-lord as he strutted across the tower to where Talvas stood. Talvas had mere seconds to look down and remember what it was he was supposed to be doing. “I asked for these paralysis potions over half an hour ago, and without them, my experiments have ceased to progress! Do you understand the importance of my work? And therefore, the importance of these small, simple tasks that I give you?”

“Yes, Master Neloth. Sorry, Master. I’ll get them made right away.”

“You’ll get them made right away?” Neloth steadily mocked. “Were you not paying attention? The time for their use has expired! Unless you’ve been standing there developing a new method of time reversal, it seems that your use has, similarly, reached its end. Now go! Reproduce my notes over there—” With that, the wizard vaguely gestured towards a table and the book that lay open upon it. “They’ll be of no use now the experiment is halted but I may find some genius within them later.”

As Neloth and his voice disappeared into a room, Talvas remained at his station. Despite what he’d said, Neloth would most likely forget and demand the potions again at a later point in time. So, he got to work with the alchemy equipment and completed a large batch before heading over to transcribe the most recent scribbles of ‘genius’. After doing so, he cleared away and cleaned the apparatus, scrubbed at each and every mark, tidied the shelves, collected the books for his evening’s reading and, momentarily dashing out to the kitchen, ensured a pot was put on ready for the ensuing demands for canis root tea. He focussed and tied his attention to each and every task, mindful of its wanderings. Yet, when he finally sat, late past sundown, on his bedroll and picked up his first book of the night, his mind began to open from the narrow corridor he’d shoved it into during the day, and he couldn’t help but think of her.

* * *

It was the rattling of the wooden boards above that first piked her attention. She looked up from the lower level of the Riften Canal, having begun wandering alongside the stale water, to see, through the gaps in the wooden railing above, a guard sprinting across from the direction of the keep. Instinctively, she quickly scaled the stairs back up to ground level and scanned the cobbles and alleyways. There was movement towards the main gate; she followed. The heavy door had only just thudded shut when she reached it and slipped through. Outside the city walls, the dappled afternoon light mingled in the slight mist clinging to the damp leaves. Several guards were clumped together in conversation on her immediate right. She hung back by the stables, feigning interest in the horse closest to her. It gave her a soft look, a short sniff, before returning to stare blankly at the winding road ahead.

“I’m telling you, it was a whole lot of magic coming outta there! I wouldn’t have called for help otherwise. You know I can hold my own against—”

“Yeah, yeah, no need for the feeble attempt to protect your pride,” came the seemingly more senior response from the huddle. “We’ll take the lesser squadron to have a look, but if this turns out to be a waste of time, Perkins, I will have no hesitation in reassigning you to a bed in a cell. Understood?”

Saph glanced over a shoulder in time to see who she assumed to be Perkins visibly shudder beneath his helmet, gulp then nod.

“It’d give you time to look for a spine,” muttered the senior guard, not at all trying to be discrete. Saph could only tell this one was the head of the group, seeing as all their uniforms were identical, by his hulking stance which dominated the surrounding, lanky bodies. New recruits, it seemed.

With another stuttering nod, Perkins led the way down the road, with his senior and three other guards in tow. And, unknown to them, Saph.

Casually in pursuit of the five figures, Saph wandered down the road and followed the group as they diverted off the cobbles and up onto the left-side grass verge. She followed them through the trees, keeping a moderate distance back as the scurrying Perkins retraced his steps. The troupe arrived at a sudden dip in the ground where their wiry guide indicated, in a tremor continually increasing in pitch, “This is where I saw them disappear. Down there, that’s where they went.”

The senior guard stalked up to stand beside Perkins, looked down into the trough, returned his gaze to his inferior, which remained there for a moment, the blank stare of the helmet emotionless, before thumping him across the back of his head. Perkins’ helmet clunked in response.

“Which cell will it be then, Perkins? Or perhaps even a choice is too great a luxury—”

“Sir, I swear—!”

“That’s enough, Perkins! And for that interruption, I promise you—”

Saph purposely stood on a twig as she stepped out from behind a tree and said, “What seems to be the problem, sirs?”

The senior guard’s head snapped to her and ground out, “Rift business, and none of yours.” He returned to the near-shaking man. “Perkins, allow me to escort you back—”

“But Sir, I saw them!” And with that, Perkins, far less gracefully than was probably intended, dropped down into what Saph could now see was in fact a circular pit, of about five feet deep, sunk into the earth. As Saph and the other guards looked over the edge, they could see Perkins scrambling about in the dirt, looking for something. Yet, there was nothing but soil, gravel and uprooted grass of varying colours — something which caught Saph’s attention.

“Perkins,” the senior guard warned, almost gutturally. Saph could see the skin on his neck heating to an alarming shade of vermillion, which most likely matched his face beneath the helmet. Saph leaned in closer over the pit, scanning it. She realised just as Perkins made an unfortunate step backwards, into the centre, why the grass had sparked her interest, and it seemed that at the instant the word ‘Wait!’ left her mouth, the guard dropped through the ground.

Saph vaulted over the edge of the pit and carefully edged up closer to look down into the hole through which Perkins had just fallen. It wasn’t deep, but it was too far down for one to easily climb back up. Unsheathing her dagger, Saph, having made her decision, squatted down at the edge of the hole, jutted herself forward, feet first, and jammed her blade into the surrounding earth as she fell.

She felt the dagger cut through maybe three roots before a fourth, mighty tough one jarred her descent to a halt. After a quick glance around, Saph grabbed the root, wrenched her dagger free, then inhaled as she released her grip and dropped to the floor. Bending low as she landed, she had to shake off the impact as she looked ahead. Strange. It looked like a rough mine tunnel, but it wasn’t deep enough below the surface for much rock to be showing; the tunnel seemed to be comprised of soft earth on all sides. Daylight gushed down from the surface and bounced happily off the first few feet of the shaft interior, allowing some visibility. Perkins sat just ahead of where she’d landed, profusely rubbing his ankle. He looked up at her. The blank expression of the helmet was unnerving, but Saph guessed the poor lad was close to soiling himself. But then he stood, wobbling and grabbing onto the wall, which crumbled beneath his grasp, but he was up.

Saph gave him brief nod, before she questioned, “What exactly did you see come down here?”

“Well, I don’t actually know,” came the stammering reply. “I heard shouts and… like, glass breaking, and, and when I came to look, I saw figures disappear over the mound, magic spraying everywhere.”

“What type of magic?” shot Saph.

“Umm… ice. Oh! That’s what that glass sound was!”

The irritated glare of feigned shock was on Saph’s face before she could stop it. She shook it off and pressed, “Anything else?”

“Uhh, there was like a red glow. Not fire… I don’t think I’ve seen something like it before.”

 _Great._ Saph had a pretty good idea what lay down the tunnel, and switched her scimitar for Dawnbreaker; the sword hummed with warmth as she drew it from her back. Affixing the curved blade to her back instead and sheathing her new choice at her hip, Saph took a few steps into the darkening passage.

“W-what are you doing?”

Saph stopped and turned to Perkins. “Do you want to come along? Or do you want a hand back up top?” she asked, inclining her head towards the way they’d entered.

Saph hid her smile as she watched Perkins take time to consider whether facing unknown, powerful dangers down a dark, underground tunnel was better or worse than facing his superior. He shuffled in his place a little, seemed to be trying to stand to some kind of attention and then, for a moment, Saph believed he might say something almost impressive before, “I… I would like to come too.”

With a small raise of her brows, and remembering the folly lot above, Saph backtracked and called up through the opening, “Perkins and I are going to take a look and see what we can find.” She turned and began leading the way before a response could be heard.


	4. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the moment, my Saph and Talvas stories are in bits and I just need to string them all together and fill in the gaps. However, I want to share this chapter, which takes place much later after “The First Step’.

He looked up, and there she was.  
Standing in the doorway, face taught beneath her hood, feet planted, ready for anything.  
It could be an illusion. It could be another trick of Neloth's to torment him more.  
It could even be a hallucination of his own making, his mind deciding to torture him instead.  
She knelt, onto both knees, and looked up. Her eyes stammered.

**She turned into the alcove with the spriggons.  
** **And there he was. Chained to the floor, laying on his front. Limp.  
** **Her knees gave way.**

But he didn't care. Didn't care if this was a mirage, just a figment of imagination, a side effect of lost hope, or if that was really Saph, here before him.  
He didn't care. Just to see her, was enough.

**Her voice helplessly broke as she spoke, feeling as though she were speaking across a vast ocean, through a fog, to someone she only hoped could hear her.**

**"I will find a way."**

**A dry breath.**

**"I will find a way."**

**The second was little more than a whisper.**

Talvas tried to get up. For gods’ sakes he tried. He needed to see her, listen to her.   
But the shackles on his hands... he bit through the blistered pain as he hauled himself onto his knees. The nausea that coiled through him reminded him of the weakening trials Neloth had put him through.

**The bruised red around his wrists, the raw irritation caused by the shackles... Saph's stomach curled. _Why put him through this?  
_** **He shuffled on his knees to face her.**

She looked the same. The clothes, the dirt, the cold determination, as ever Saph. But as she pushed back her hood... the pain. Only slightly visible through the barricade of steel concentration. But nevertheless, there. Her eyes were on his wrists.

"Neloth's solution to my poking around where I apparently shouldn't," he offered in explanation. "I thought that even though I can't leave the tower, I can still find some answers, some solution. But..."

The glimmer of hope killed him. She, above anyone else, should never be given false hope.

"Nothing."

They both choked on their breath.

"Saph, I don't know what to do. I really don't. By the Nines of course I want to do something, will never stop trying to... but I am lost."

He didn't care that this wasn't positive. They both knew the importance of realism. And, if she was indeed merely a hallucination, his imagination had conjured her for a reason. He needed her. Just to feel the sense of another person in the world. Another person to hear his heart.

**She looked into his eyes, as they now knelt face-to-face. He was drained, so very drained. It killed her to think that the dark shadows and withering strength were because of her... because of them.**

**“There must be a way,” she whispered.**

He felt her breath on his face and looked into her eyes as they began to line with silver, and he knew, then, that she was no mirage.

**She breathed in and tried to clear her head, wiping away the tears she hadn’t realised had formed.**

**“We need a way to reverse the spell, some kind of antidote.”**

Talvas noticed how her tone changed, how her focus had refined into sharp thought. He marvelled at her. It didn’t matter what situation they were in, he was always amazed by her.

“But despite our research, we’ve found nothing.”

A part of him wanted to reach out to her, but simply seeing her, being an arm’s stretch away from her... it was enough.

She continued, “One solution that we could have more faith in working would be for the caster to reverse the spell...” Talvas could feel the incredulous look growing across his face. “But obviously our faith in the caster is... diminished.”

Neloth had always baffled Talvas, but in an impressive way - he’d wanted to learn from him. And, yes, sometimes Neloth’s methods and thought processes had baffled him, also. But whatever had crossed his master’s mind to cause him to manipulate and practically torture the two of them as he had done so... well, Neloth was certainly no stranger to using Talvas as a test subject for his experiments. Perhaps that’s what all this was to Neloth: one big, exciting, real-life experiment. With the added bonus of keeping his apprentice, like a dog, to do his bidding. As if Talvas hadn’t already been doing so before they’d ever met Saph.

“Is there anything we could do to convince him?” Saph asked.

“He has no real motive other than to experiment on us, so some sort of negotiation might work. Except...”

“He may have another motive.”

Talvas nodded grimly.

Saph spoke, “As far as he’s aware, though, something merely happened near us. It could have even simply been an energy burst. He just knows he’s interested in finding out more.”

“Do we even know what we created?”

Saph almost smiled at that, and shook her head with a snort.

“It’s safe.”

Talvas nodded once in acknowledgement.

“What about the staffs he’s been having me collect?” She suggested. “He’s obviously fond of them.”

Talvas’ head lifted, and she could see his eyes glimmer with thought.

“I know they’re not powerful,” she continued, “but they’re valuable to him as a collection. If, maybe, there was a particularly valuable one, I could find it.”

"I did see something when I searched the tower. In the trunk in his room. All of his research on Azra NightWielder and where to find the staffs. There might be something in there we could use."

**Light filled Talvas' face.**

**She couldn’t believe it. Here he was, chained to the floor, a prisoner within the tower he once called home, held captive by his master who had literally poisoned him so that he could never get too close to her, who had interrogated him through means that she had no idea the limits of, all in pursuit of knowledge he’d only guessed existed... and Talvas was still hopeful. She lost herself for a moment, looking at him. Seeing him.**

**Then a shadow crossed her mind in response to those she saw beneath his eyes.**

**“What is he doing to you?”**

He didn’t want to tell her.

“Nothing horrific.” That was an honest answer. “He’s treating me much the same as he did before, with the added bonus of a strong ward preventing me from leaving the tower. Oh, and now shackles.”

Saph‘s face remained stone-like, looking at him with hard eyes.

Talvas breathed a little, then began,

“At first he wanted to know what had happened when we were in Skyrim. He didn’t give much away, but I worked out he had sensed some kind of energy surge from the college’s location and wanted to know what it was. He knew it was linked to us because you’d mentioned we would be stopping by whilst we were over there.

I initially brushed it off as probably some college business, for they are often freely experimenting, as I didn’t particularly feel obliged to tell him what had actually happened between us.

But he persisted, and after a while seemed to give up, before becoming intrigued by our relationship, commenting on how close we’d become. He seemed obsessive and fascinated, but a little more deranged than his usual obsessiveness and fascination. I think he’d begun to put the pieces together, and perhaps deduced that our magic had combined in some way, or at least that we had been up to _something_. Nevertheless, he saw leverage. He saw that I cared for you and decided that he’d get his answers through us. Through me. He began threatening you, not violently, but like a snake. Making sly comments, the meaning implicit, which was why I didn’t pick up on his intentions immediately. He was so calm, but the fire behind his eyes, driven by his thirst for knowledge... I realised that he was determined to find out what happened in Winterhold, what we had done, and not out of mere curiosity. So I tried to leave...”

Talvas took a moment to breathe, to process.

“I’d never been attacked by Neloth. I’ve been the target of some his spells, but never attacked. He knocked me out cold with one small blast.

When I woke, I was sitting on a chair in here, Neloth standing over me. He explained, as if it were a lesson, that he had cast a spell on me that would contract around my heart whenever I made physical contact with you. He said he didn’t appreciate the notion of losing his apprentice to some whimsical idea of romance, even if it was with the Dragonborn, and that he also didn’t appreciate not receiving the answers to questions he politely asked. He then said he was looking forward to such an engaging study and that I should be too. It seems that study is of us, our relationship, and how we’ll react to various... stimuli. This spell being one of them.

He then gave me a list of errands and tasks and told me to stop sitting around and get to work - a typical occurrence at Tel Mythrin.

When you returned from the Skaal, I feared what he might do to you.”

He closed his eyes against the memory of what he’d said to her that day.

“I thought it best for you to get as far away from here as possible, far away from me, because it was through me that Neloth wanted to get to you. I’m sorry for what I put you through, and for waiting so long before writing to you. It took time before Neloth became disinterested enough in the ‘study’ before he stopped watching me like a hawk and I could write to you.

But you had returned to Solstheim before I had the chance to. And since you did not visit Tel Mythrin, it appeared to Neloth that you had truly believed what I’d said, and his plan of using me as leverage to get answers from you was now rendered useless. And he certainly had no plan to go after you to use against me, especially after you had left Solstheim.

Which is when he formulated new methods. Neloth isn’t one to use physical torture, so he delved into the School of Illusion to make me talk. The funny thing is, he’d practically forgotten about the source of the energy surge. He was more annoyed at the fact that I’d contemplated leaving with you. He was so obsessed with our relationship, wanted to test it, ‘push it’. He created images, scenarios, simulations... of you.”

Talvas bowed his head.

“I coped. I survived. I kept looking for a solution, hence the most recent attempt to keep be under control.” He motioned to his bracelets. “And knowing I had been able to get that letter to you, that you knew the truth... it helped.

And when you arrived here, it would be an understatement to say Neloth was surprised. Which is why he kept up the lie that I wanted nothing to do with you, because he... he was afraid of what you might do if you saw the state of me, shackled to the floor in the next room.”

Talvas laughed at that.

“I’m alright, Saph. Tired, but I’m alright. Better now that I’ve seen you.”

**She reached out to him, not thinking.  
**   
**And he retreated, falling backwards, chains clacking.**

**The space that grew between them, she hated it. She hated that she couldn’t show him that the hurt he’d been through hurt her as well. Couldn’t let him know how glad she was he had survived, and was still here, still Talvas.**

**Because words were not enough.**

**He clambered back to his knees, apology seated deep in his eyes. She hoped he could read the sorrow in hers.**

**“I’m sorry.”**

**It bled from her mouth on a weeping breath.**

**“I am so sorry, for all you have been through. It’s because of me.”**

“Saph.”

It was his turn to reach out to her. He moved his hand towards hers, the one laying limp on her thigh. He hovered his hand just above hers, feeling the heat and the energy of the space between them against his palm. He held the moment, and he looked up into her face as he said,

“You did not force me to join you on your adventures. You did not make me decide to stand by you.

You did not choose for me to love you.

You are not to blame.”

**She didn’t bother trying to stop the tears from falling.**

**“I love you too,” she whispered.**

“And we are going to get through this.”

**“We are indeed.”**

“Now, go. Do what you do best.”

**She smiled, and so did her eyes.**

**“I’ll see you soon.”**


	5. Old Friends, New Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the moment, my Saph and Talvas stories are in bits and I just need to string them all together and fill in the gaps. However, I want to share this chapter, which takes place much later after “The First Step’ because it is able to stand alone, relatively. Also, I want to show that I have written more, I’ve written much more, it’s just that if I post what I have so far, it will make little sense as I need to fill in the gaps. I hope you enjoy this little flash-forward in time.

Her face was peaceful, her mind stolen away from reality. As he hurled the rock from her legs, her brows furrowed and her face contorted as the pain clearly returned. Her eyes shot open, her jaw clenched, her breath escaping like shards through her nostrils. Her blood was everywhere. Their eyes locked, but still she clenched her jaw, sealing in any sounds, panting unevenly. He needed to stop the bleeding, but the ceiling continued to give way and more boulders toppled from above further down the passage. So Talvas burst out, “I’m sorry,” before leaning down to lift her. It was then that he saw the arrow in her shoulder. Or what was left of the arrow. The fletching was poking out from the front, but any remnants of the other end were crushed beneath her. Along with her quiver. He carefully snaked his arm underneath her torso, minding the smashed shards of quiver and arrows, the other under her knees, and lifted her. A cry of agony broke from her. “I’m sorry,” he said again, as he turned and headed out of the crypt.

Her breathing had slowed. Panic surged from deep within Talvas as he hurried out of the entrance of the barrow and onto the shadowed grass plains beyond. He lay her down. She was completely silent, her eyes closed. He lay his hands on her stomach, where most of the blood seemed to be flowing from, only now much slower than before, and blindly forced the healing spell out, past the pain of his last reserves of Magika. It was not enough. She had lost too much. He moved his hands to her face, pleading for her to wake. “Saph!”  
What could he do? There had to be something.  
He needed to get her to more powerful healers. He needed to get her to someone who could help. They were too far from Whiterun and the Temple of Kynerath, and there was no horse.  
He stood, raking his hands down his face.  
He could try. There was nothing to lose.  
He looked up to the sky, remembering the words Saph had shouted only a few, rare times, and screamed, “O-Dah-Ving!”  
It was pathetic. A fly’s buzz compared to the might of real Thu’um. But he had nothing left.  
So he screamed again, his voice cracking raw.  
A quiet echo was the only reply.

The wing beats sent a shockwave through him and his head snapped to the sky. The dark form sailed against the clouds, closer by the second. But it was not the blood-red hide of Odahving that shone in the moonlight. The bone-white dragon glowed as it descended gracefully and landed on the other side of Saph. It studied him for a second, before lowering its head, huffing as it scented the motionless body between them. Its movements were unhurried, patient — a pace gained only by a timeless existence. It only quickened Talvas’ racing heart. His gut tightened, aware that every passing moment could be Saph’s last.  
The dragon raised its head again to look at him, an ancient, omniscient gaze, as if in question.  
“Help her,” he choked, “please.”  
The dragon looked down again.  
Talvas’ desperation spiked as he ground out, “Do something.”  
He immediately regretted it, aware of the majesty of the creature he addressed.  
But the dragon’s focus remained on Saph, its maw just grazing her head.  
Her eyes shifted beneath her lids, which then lifted, slightly.  
In a low, sonorous rumble, the dragon spoke,  
“Dreh hi laan wah dein hin laas”.  
After a laboured, barely detectable breath, Saph’s eyes slid, painfully slowly, to Talvas, where they lingered.  
Saph replied, in a ragged whisper,  
“Rok los dii laas”.

The dragon followed her gaze, and Talvas was struck still, until Saph’s eyes closed once more. He made to move towards her, but the dragon was a step ahead of him. With a mighty beat of wings, knocking Talvas back a step with the force, the dragon was airborne. It gently wrapped its talons around her, cradling her as it lifted higher into the air.  
Without thinking, Talvas reached up for her, the word escaping from him: “Wait.”  
The dragon paused its ascent and studied him once more, that immortal, unwavering gaze chiselling Talvas to the soul.  
Seamlessly, the dragon lay Saph on the ground, landing above her like a mountainous shield, and lowered its head.  
An offer, Talvas realised. No, not an offer; permission. Talvas carefully, respectfully, climbed onto the dragon’s neck and grasped its battered horns, one more of a stump than a horn, severed midway. The age of them...   
Talvas was not prepared as the dragon again took flight and soared into the night.

  
The expanse of the marshland below indicated that they were above Morthal. The swamp water glimmered as they glided between the moon and its reflections. It seemed they were soon to land. Ahead of them, amid the sparse trees, Talvas could make out a cloaked figure, meandering through the shadows. As the distance between them diminished, the dragon prepared to land. As they reached the ground, the figure turned and stood, watching them. They seemed to startle at the sight of the body the dragon released. Indicated by the creature lowering its head, Talvas dismounted and approached the figure.  
At the sight of the burning eyes, Talvas summoned a fire bolt. A spark of red in the figure’s pale hand appeared in response. But their other hand rose between them, splayed in defence.  
“Stop,” a cool female voice ordered from beneath the hood. Those golden eyes shifted to the dragon behind him. “Saph?”  
Talvas dropped his hand. So did the woman. She strode past him, right up to the dragon, and to Saph, laid out in the thin grass. She knelt beside her, placing her hands about Saph’s neck, her face, her fading skin, examining her. Talvas arrived behind her.  
He watched over the stranger’s shoulder, expecting some sort of glow to begin emanating from her hands, some sort of magic.  
He then realised why the dragon had brought them here, to this woman. This woman who didn’t have any healing spells that would help Saph, because this woman didn’t need to know any healing spells. The blood that ebbed through her cold veins was enough.  
“No.” The word was stone.  
The woman stilled.  
Talvas moved to the other side of Saph, knelt, and said again, “No.”  
The woman looked up at him, squinting in question. She looked to the dragon. Then again to him. Her face softened. “It would save her.” Talvas only noticed then that the woman was holding Saph’s hand.  
Talvas spoke, “She’s been there before, and she swore ‘never again’.”  
His eyes dropped to the motionless face below. She could have been sleeping, were it not for the ashen tone of her skin.  
“I would never do so without her permission,” the woman said to him, determined truth lining her words, “but she can’t give it at the moment.” A breath escaped from her, curling in the cold air between them. “It’s your call.”  
Talvas couldn’t, he couldn’t make this decision. He looked over his shoulder. The dragon watched them, calmly.  
He turned back to the woman lying in front of him, and to the woman kneeling opposite him, their hands still joined, Saph’s now almost as pale as the snow-white fingers gripping hers. Soon they may be identical.  
“She can be cured, afterwards,” he half-asked, half-assured, “like before.”  
The woman silently winced. “Possibly.”  
He looked again to Saph, and picked up her free hand. As cold as ice.  
He wasn’t ready to say goodbye. And he didn’t think the world was either.  
“Do it.”

He knew he should probably look away.  
But he didn’t.  
The woman leaned over Saph’s body and angled her head. The sound was horrific. And it lasted too long. Talvas turned away.  
When the woman retreated, Talvas slowly returned his gaze. He looked only at Saph’s closed eyes, avoiding the gaping wound new on her neck.  
He heard the dragon shift and braced himself against the gust of air as it took flight. The beat of wings faded into the distance, its task accomplished.  
The marsh was silent. Or perhaps he had just blocked out the world.  
He didn’t know how long had passed when the woman swallowed and said, “We need to get her somewhere safe.”  
Talvas didn’t respond.  
Slowly, the woman made to lift Saph, as if checking with him whether she was allowed to. He didn’t move. When the woman had her arms beneath Saph, Talvas placed the hand he was holding into her lap, and stood himself. The woman followed, raising Saph with ease and grace. She began to walk.  
“Where?” His voice felt foreign.  
“I know a place. It’s close.”  
Talvas followed and said nothing more.

  
On the other side of the marsh, a light flickered. The woman seemed to be heading in that direction. Talvas didn’t register the water in his boots as they waded and trudged toward that light. As they neared, the shape of a house formed behind a cluster of trees on the farthest mound of the marsh. The source of the light turned out to be a lantern, placed on the floor amid work tables and chests, in front of the building’s front door.  
A building site, evident by the nature of the work benches and by the wooden framework of an extension that Talvas could just begin to make out behind the small house.  
A man sat on a tree stump some way away; he stood as they approached. A dog sat beside the stump, its tail wagging expectantly.  
“She’ll be alright.” The woman said to the man. He nodded, but did not sit back down, his studded armour gleaming in the lantern light. They continued to the front door and entered.

The room was bare, save one bed against the right wall, a chest against the other and a small work bench in the closest corner.  
The woman lay Saph out on the bed, then turned to Talvas as if to say something. She didn’t. She glanced at Saph then gently said, “She’ll wake in a few hours. She’ll...” The woman hesitated. “She’ll be alright.”  
She paused. Talvas didn’t bother reading the thoughts on her face. She glanced again at Saph. Then turned to leave.  
“Could you get some hot water?” His voice rasped against his throat. “For her wounds.”  
The woman blinked at him, but nodded and left through the door.

Talvas approached the bed. He sat beside her feet. He had no words. Or too many.  
The door clicked open and the woman returned, bearing a bowl of water. Where she got the bowl from, he didn’t know. As she walked across the small space, a flame flicked into her palm, positioned beneath the bowl, heating it. By the time she handed it to him, the water was lightly steaming. She reached into a pocket and handed him a cloth. Then she left him again.  
Talvas placed the bowl and cloth on the floor and carefully began unbuckling Saph’s body armour. As he peeled it away, it became apparent how little had been left intact. Both the armour, and Saph. Gashes, slices, bruises and darkened blood covered her torso. He continued to avoid looking at the wound that marred her neck. Her shoulder still contained the arrow. He fished that out first and grimaced at the thought of the damage it had done to her arm’s mobility. Then, equipping the soaked cloth, he wiped away the gore. What was left was the result of his sorry attempt at healing her when they first had emerged from the crypt. No more healing or bandaging would be necessary, he supposed, as no blood would now flow from the wounds, anyway.  
Talvas finished cleaning up Saph and pulled the blanket over her. He sat and watched over her, and waited for what the morning might bring.


End file.
